


Selfish Machines

by stilesangelofthelord



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Human, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-03-22
Updated: 2014-03-24
Packaged: 2018-01-16 15:19:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,868
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1352215
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stilesangelofthelord/pseuds/stilesangelofthelord
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles is a grown up. Kind of. He’s not going to be jealous over his best friend (since diapers, may he remind you) making a friend at his job. He is not that petty.<br/>__</p>
<p>Stiles is so that petty.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> this is a thing i wrote bc i have some v specific headcanons and needs. like isaac and stiles being best bros, and derek playing basketball, and scott hero worshipping derek. and jealous stiles. god i love jealous stiles. so this thing happened. a million thanks to ashesandhalefire and dcrekhales (on tumblr) for reading this for me, and my real life bff sepulchralstiles for not laughing at me for this.

Since as long as Stiles can remember, Scott has been his best friend. His partner in crime. His _compadre_. The guy sitting next to him when they get arrested. Well, not literally. Okay, kind of literally. Whatever.

 

They have known each other since diapers, when Melissa McCall and Claudia Stilinski  took their two baby boys to the same Beacon Hills Gymboree class. Even before they could properly walk, Stiles was loud and fidgety and quite the handful, and Scott was the human-version of a puppy dog.

 

The only thing that maybe changes since diapers is that they add a few more amigos into their friend group. They add Allison (Scott’s girlfriend since, like, puberty) and her best friend, Lydia, and Lydia's dick boyfriend, Jackson, and Jackson's non-dick (though his sexual orientation was decidedly pro-dick) best friend, Danny, but no matter who they add to their group, Stiles and Scott are always at the middle, Stiles excitedly coming up with a plan and Scott wagging his (figurative) tail. The point is, nothing has ever been able to tear them apart.

 

And then comes the summer after their junior year of high school. Perhaps Stiles is being overdramatic. The summer doesn't _tear_ them apart. It just pulls them, like, actually physically apart for longer than they were used to.

 

Stiles is going to go abroad to Italy to study the culture and language for five weeks (it'll look great on his applications come fall and Italian people are hot and real pizza (yes, _please_ ) and Italian is close enough to Spanish to get by, he thinks) and Scott will stay in California, spending the summer about two hours north working as a counselor at a sleepaway camp. Stiles is sure Scott will be great with the kids, and it’ll probably be good for him to be apart from Allison, who is doing a precollege thing in the northeast with Lydia. (Jackson and Danny are travelling around, going to schools and meeting coaches, trying to decide where they’d get the best deal to play college lacrosse – though Jackson is much more heavily recruited, they are a package deal, much to everyone else’s frustration and chagrin.)  Stiles promises to Skype them all when he has Wi-Fi (except maybe Jackson because, like, he’ll probably just look at himself the whole time), and they all agree the same.

 

And they do Skype, as much as they can. Lydia tells him all about how the math program is just "so fucking fantastic, Stiles; I would fit in here perfectly and if I don’t get in I’m going to kill the entire admissions office," and Allison laughs softly in the background and says, "Yeah, it’s great, but I like California better," when everyone knows she just means she would go wherever Scott goes. Danny says that he really likes the southern states but is afraid he "wouldn’t quite fit in" and neither Jackson nor Stiles make him spell that out, simply suggesting, "How about Rutgers or UMichigan? And don’t rule out UCLA!”

Stiles stays at a hostel in Italy (it's pretty nice, as far as hostels go), but he still has six people in a room that's certainly not well-suited to six people.  It doesn't have the best Wi-Fi, either.  

Even though he makes one really good friend who is also on the program (his name’s Isaac; he’s quiet but crazy sharp and witty and, basically, Stiles’ favorite kind of person), he misses Scott miserably.

 

The first time they manage to catch each other to Skype (time-zones, man) Scott is wearing his camp t-shirt and looks a bit disheveled, but overall, he looks happy.

 

“Dude!” Stiles exclaims, holding his iPhone up higher, as if maybe that would help the shitty connection and shitty wifi in this hostel in nowhere-town Italy. “Ciao!”

 

“Hey, Stiles,” Scott laughs. “How’s Italia?”

 

“Pretty Italian. But what about you? How’s camp life? Did you push someone’s mattress out onto the lake yet?”

 

“That’s the _Parent Trap_ , you moron, and no, I can’t do that.   _I’m their counselor_ ,” he says seriously, though Stiles can tell Scott's trying not to laugh.

 

“Right, right, of course."  Stiles flashes a shit-eating grin.

Scott rolls his eyes, and then they widen. “Oh!” he exclaims.  “I meant to tell you about my co-counselor for my bunk. He’s, like, the coolest guy ever, Stiles. You’d love him.”

 

Stiles feels his stomach drop. It isn't like Stiles is _possessive_ of Scott, or whatever, it’s just that they’re mejor amigos and Stiles likes to think he’s the "coolest guy ever" (it’s also not like he started telling Scott all about how _cool_ Isaac was).  

 

“Yeah?” Stiles decides to answer, trying not to convey his completely inappropriate jealousy.

“Yeah,” Scott confirms. “His name's Derek and he’s gonna be a junior at Stanford. You guys would get along so well! I mean, he comes off like a total asshole at first, but once you get to know him, he’s, like, super chill.”

 

Oh, so now Scott had gotten to know him so well in the last week? Whatever. Stiles is mature.

 

“Really? That’s awesome,” Stiles says, though it doesn’t sound like he really thinks it’s quite that awesome. “Well, there’s this kid Isaac here, actually, and I think you’d like him a lot, too.”

 

Isaac is actually sitting on the couch across from Stiles and gives him a look like he knows exactly what Stiles is trying to do. Funny how they’ve only known each other a week and Isaac already gets him so well. Shit. Maybe that’s what happened with Derek and Scott. Maybe he really is getting best friend replaced.

 

“You’d have a lot in common, I mean,” Stiles says quickly. Which is actually not true. He’s not sure they’d have anything in common. “Maybe when we get home we can all chill.” Shit. He didn’t mean to say that.

 

“Yeah, totally!” Scott chirps, and he looks and sounds go genuinely happy about the idea that Stiles knows he can’t take it back now. Stupid fucking big mouth is gonna get him in actual trouble one of these days. “Oh, I gotta go! It’s bed time for the kids. We’ll Skype soon!”

 

Stiles hangs up and leans back at the couch. He can feel Isaac staring at him, though, so he opens one eye.

 

“What?”

 

“You’re an actual five-year-old.”

 

“Stai zitto,” he mutters. He thinks it means "shut up" in Italian, but Google translate isn’t always quite right, and he finds out pretty quickly that Spanish and Italian are not as similar as he thought.

 

Isaac just laughs quietly.

 

__

 

The next time Scott gets around to Skyping him it’s been almost another week and apparently that’s enough time for Scott and Derek to have made fucking friendship bracelets. Well, not literally. Well, probably literally, when Stiles thinks about it. They do work at a sleepaway camp.

 

Stiles finds out that Derek is at Stanford because not only was he smart enough to get in academically, but he’s apparently "the best basketball player on their team, Stiles."  Stiles finds himself nodding and pretending to smile, but his jaw is locked so tight it aches by the end of the conversation. Isaac keeps giving him this look, but Stiles pretends he doesn’t notice.

Stiles is a grown up. Kind of. He’s not going to be jealous over his best friend (since diapers, _may he remind you_ ) making a friend at his job. He is not that petty.

__

Stiles is _so_ that petty.

He doesn’t Skype with Scott for another week, and next time he does he makes Isaac sit with him and spend the whole time talking about all the totally awesome crazy cool things they’ve been doing Italy. Well, Stiles does. Isaac mostly examines his nails.

Except Scott actually looks genuinely happy Stiles is having such a great time and Stiles feels like such a bad friend by the end of his rant about how you can buy gelato and vodka in the same fucking place, that he actually caves and asks about Derek.

“So how’s your co-counselor Derek or whatever?” Stiles half-mutters.

“Oh, he’s great!” Scott smiles. “Can you believe camp is almost half over? And your trip! Derek was just saying the other day - “

Stiles tunes out the rest, if he’s honest, but it’s followed by some story about the great and fabulous Derek and a canoe and little children and "it was really funny, Stiles, but I guess you had to be there."

Stiles likes to picture Derek as some, like, really weird kid who smells funny and follows Scott around, but if Scott’s stories are anything to go by, Derek must be, like, a prime example of the human physique. And he plays college basketball. Right.

_College basketball._

“Scott, what did you say Derek’s last name was again?” Stiles interrupts him suddenly, gesturing for Isaac to give him his phone. Isaac rolls his eyes but does as he’s asked.

“Um, I didn’t? Hale, I think, though. Derek Hale.”

“Oh, all right, cool.  Thanks. Um, I have to go, Scotty Boy. Skype soon, okay?” Stiles says, already opening Safari on Isaac’s phone.

“Yeah, sure,” Scott says slowly, giving him this look, but Stiles ignores it and presses “end call” with one hand while typing in “Derek Hale Stanford Basketball” into Isaac’s phone with the other.

“Why do you have to creepily stalk Scott’s new best friend on my phone and not yours?”

“Not Scott’s new best friend,” Stiles snaps, choosing to ignore the question and waiting for the Google page to load.

The first few images are basketball shots where Derek’s face is obscured. Yeah. Stiles was right. His body is basically that of a Greek god. Of course Scott would want a best friend who looked like that. I mean, geez, he could probably muscle his way into anywhere and get, like, every girl or guy in the whole place to buy him a drink, just by looking at his (glorious) ass in his basketball shorts. And then Sties see his class picture.

“Seriously?” he groans.

“What?” Isaac asks.

Stiles silently hands him the phone.

“I mean, fine, he’s a basketball player, I knew his body would be hot,” Stiles dramatically rambles as Isaac scrolls through Google Images. “But a face like that and his body? Are you kidding? I bet his dick is huge. I feel so emasculated right now.”

Isaac gives him a withering stare.

“I don’t think, from what I’ve heard of him, Scott picks his best friends based on their penis size,” Isaac drawls, putting his phone away while Stiles pouts. “You’re being ridiculous. Now, unless you’re in love with him–" Stiles makes a noise of protest “–which I know you’re not because he’s your very, very, very straight brother for all intents and purposes, I suggest you stop moping and join me in my quest for Italian ass,” he finishes with a grin.

Stiles rolls his eyes but gets up and grabs his wallet anyway.

__

“She’s pretty cute,” Stiles says a little bit later, nearly sloshing over his drink in an effort to point and waggling his eyebrows suggestively at Isaac. Isaac follows his line of sight and contemplates.

“Yeah,” he agrees. “But not really my type.”

“Is your type bitingly witty, with cheekbones and jawlines that could cut through steel?”

Isaac frowns. “I’m not sure if you’re describing yourself, or describing me, and both are mildly disturbing.”

“Obviously you, prick face,” Stiles slurs. “I don’t have those.” He gestures at Isaac’s face, presumably encompassing his entire perfect bone structure.

Isaac sighs and looks heavenward, as if asking how he ended up with this guy as his only friend for five weeks.

“I think you’ve had enough limoncello for the night,” Isaac says slowly.

“Probably,” Stiles agrees goodnaturedly. At that, Isaac laughs. “But I was really hoping for some company tonight.” He waggles his eyebrows again.

“You look like a badly animated villain when you do that, Stiles,” Isaac sighs. “C’mon, let’s go home - we have two weeks left for this.”

Stiles begrudgingly gets up, muttering something about how if he looked like Derek McPerfect maybe he would actually be able to get laid.

__

****  
  


Stiles’ time in Italy is quickly drawing to a close and he’s not sure how he feels about that. He’s learned some Italian (kind of), gotten some Italian ass (also kind of), and even made some Italian pottery (that one is definitely a kind of). He did make a more-than-kind-of friend, though, and he hopes him and Isaac will remain close when they return to California, as he only lives about an hour away. There’s only one week left of the program and Stiles is deep in thought about going home when he gets a Skype call from Scott.

“Scotty boy!” Stiles exclaims, smiling widely. “I was just thinking about you.”

“Good things, I hope,” Scott answers.

“Of course,” Stiles smiles.

“You’ll never believe what happened yesterday,” Scott starts, launching into a long-winded story that involved a campfire, Derek, and a lake. Instead of tuning him out this time, though, Stiles actually listens. Somewhere over the last week, he figures, he’d subconsciously decided that if Derek was going to try to steal his best friend, he was going to have to go through Stiles first. Keep your friends close, and the people trying to steal your friends closer. Or something like that.

Rationally, Stiles is aware that Derek is going to be a junior at Stanford University and is probably being heavily looked at by the NBA if his stats are anything to go on, and he’s probably just hanging out with Scott for the summer and Scott has a little bit of a bro-worship thing going on. Rationally, Stiles knows all those things. Irrationally, Stiles still wants to pee on Scott to assert his territory. Well, not literally. But. You know. Territory.

He’s also decided in the last week thathe’d like to meet this Derek character when he gets home and scope him out for himself. If he seems like a bad dude, he can pull the lowest card he knows (he has no shame) and get Melissa and Allison’s help in convincing Scott that he’s not a good influence.  Hopefully, though, he won’t have to resort to such indecency.

“I can’t wait to see you in a week, bro,” Scott sighs.

“Yeah, me neither,” Stiles agree, preening at Scott’s attention. Because he is an actual five year old. “When do the girls get back?”

“The day before us,” Scott says, perking up. “I say we all drive down to the beach to celebrate being reunited!”

Oh, Scott. Always with the cheesy ideas. As long as Derek McPerfectButtAndFace isn’t invited, he thinks. Plus, if Jackson the King Dick isn’t back, maybe he’ll get to actually hang out with Lydia. He’s always had a bit of a crush on Lydia and is absolutely terrified of her–in equal, healthy doses, of course.

“Sure, sounds great,” Stiles says instead. Suddenly he sees Isaac making a hang up gesture, and pointing to the door. “Oops, man, gotta go, late for lunch! Enjoy your evening; take care of the kiddies.”

__

****  
  


Stiles and Isaac marathon Game of Thrones on the flight home from Italy. Stiles decides Isaac is a good counter-balance to him in a way Scott isn’t, and though his best friend forever spot is taken, he thinks Isaac can fill the best bro forever spot. He doesn’t say this outloud, of course. Isaac would probably punch him.

Scott surprises him at the airport with a sign and everything, saying he left camp early so he could pick him up, which is, like, so sweet. The Sheriff is there, too, which is great. It’s not until no one’s there to pick Isaac up does Stiles put all the pieces of conversation him and Isaac had had over the last month together - Isaac doesn’t have a home he’s really crazy about going back to. Without even thinking, Stiles invites Isaac to come stay with him because dude it’s the summer, it’ll be fun. The Sheriff catches Stiles’ eye and they have a mutual understanding. Scott’s dad had left when Scott was really young, and for as long as Stiles has had Scott by his side, the Sheriff has basically been Scott’s dad, too. What was another stray to add to the mix? Isaac would fit right in.

The four of them go out to the Cheesecake Factory after because that’s where Claudia used to take Stiles whenever he came home from an overnight trip somewhere, but the Sheriff doesn’t mention it, so neither does Stiles. Isaac and Scott click together surprisingly quickly, and Stiles feels almost like he successfully brought a girl (or boy) home to meet the family (though him and Isaac are as platonic as him and Scott).

Stiles is so happy to be home.

And, well, if Scott doesn’t mention a certain person's name the whole meal, that doesn’t hurt, either.

****  
  


****  
  
  



	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i had dcrekhales (http://kitsunes.co.vu/) look over an earlier version of this, but i was really anxious to post it to get some feedback on the direction i was heading, so here ya go!
> 
> every single kudos, hit, and comment means the world to me and encourages me to keep writing, so thank you

The boys go home, shower, and decide to meet the girls at the beach for an impromptu bonfire. They trade stories from the summer, sipping Jack and catching up. Allison is glued to Scott’s side (lips and hands locked), and Lydia spends her time regaling Isaac and Stiles with stories about her conquests at the pre-college program.

The fire crackles, reflecting off of Lydia’s hair. Stiles (who can’t concentrate on anything for more than five minutes) briefly wonders if Scott had many campfires like this at camp. He’s about to ask, but then remembers Derek the Perfect Co-Counselor and decides he’ll avoid brining him up at all costs.

“Stiles!”

“What? Yeah,” Stiles answers quickly.

“Did you even hear a word I said?” Lydia asks, lips jutting out in annoyance.

“Not..not explicitly,” Stiles mutters. Lydia rolls her eyes, but then keeps talking anyway. This time Stiles tries his absolute best to pay attention.

It feels warm and familiar and Stiles is content.

_

****  
  


“I can’t believe school is starting in a week,” Stiles groans, pouring milk into the paper cup in his hands. He’d decided to start working at the local coffee shop during the school year to make some extra money and today is his first day. It’s Isaac’s first day, too, but he doesn’t come in until later.

In the week since they’ve been home, there’s only been one significant change: Isaac is now officially living with Stiles, at least for now. Since he turned 18 at the end of July, he didn’t have to go back to his dad’s house legally speaking, and simply transferred to Beacon Hills High. Isaac never really talked about it, but Stiles knows him and the Sheriff helped him out of a rough spot and that Isaac is grateful. He’s insisted on carrying his weight in the house, though, (where he would be living until he could afford an apartment or until college, whichever came first) and that’s why he got the job with Stiles, promising to help with gas, groceries, and school supplies. Stiles is just happy he never has to go back to that house.

“Fuck!” Stiles exclaims, burning his hand (he’s not even sure on what).

“You okay, dude?” Scott asks worriedly, reaching for his coffee.

“Yeah,” Stiles mutters. “Just not coordinated enough for this job.”

“It’s good money, though,” Scott reminds him.

“Yeah, yeah.”

“Well, hey, I have something that might make your last week of summer slightly better,” Scott says with a grin. “I meant to tell you this morning when you called but I forgot.”

“What?”

“Well, you remember Derek?”

Stiles stomach swoops, but he nods. “Your co-counselor or whatever?”

“Right,” Scott nods. “Well his parents own a lake house a few towns over from here, and before he heads up to Stanford, he’s throwing a party, and he said I was more than welcome to come and bring friends!” Scott grins like he just bestowed Stiles with some type of gift.

“Oh,” Stiles manages. “What types of people will be there?” What kind of question is that. Stiles doesn’t know. He’s still trying to process that Derek “Perfect Everything” Hale is also rich enough to own a lake house. Seriously? How is that fair?

“Um, well, probably some friends from his school and from home, I guess,” Scott answers, rubbing his neck awkwardly. “But I really think It’ll be fun! I mean, it’s basically a college party, Stiles. _College_.”

Stiles is in no mood to drive all the way to some stranger’s house just to watch his best friend trail the owner of the house like a lost puppy dog all night, while probably getting looked at like he’s definitely not old enough to be there. It doesn’t really sound like his idea of a good time. At all.

Apparently his thoughts are painted on his face, because Scott starts talking again, this time staring off with his infamous puppy dog eyes.

“C’mon, man,” he says, practically jutting out his lower lip. “I told you you’d love Derek!”

Stiles closes his eyes and holds the bridge of his nose in frustration, a habit he picked up from his dad.

“And I’m assuming I’ll have to drive to this party?” Stiles asks.

He opens his eyes in enough time to see Scott ducking his head bashfully.

“Of course,” Stiles mutters. “You owe me so much, McCall.”

__

****  
  


Stiles can’t believe he’s doing this.

He seriously _can not_ believe he’s doing this.

He is willingly taking his best friend to his would-be-best-friend-stealer’s house.

He is a facilitator.

And also probably a masochist.

They’ve been in the car for about twenty minutes (Stiles driving with white knuckles, Scott grinning in the front seat, Allison being Allison in the back, sitting next to Lydia and Isaac who are talking quietly to each other - presumably about the trials and tribulations of being prettier than everyone around you) and Scott has not quit jabbering excitedly about all the totally awesome and cool things Derek does/has done.

“Did you know Derek’s team made it to the Sweet 16 in March Madness last year?”

“No, Scott, I don’t really watch college basketball.”

“Did you know Derek is a TA?”

“Why would I know that, Scott?"

...And so on and so forth.

Stiles is ready to punch him.  Him being Derek.  Or Scott.  Stiles hasn’t decided which, yet.

Isaac keeps giving him these looks through the mirror like he knows exactly what Stiles is thinking, and he has to choke back his laughter a few times.

Stiles’ whole body is on edge with the anticipation of finally meeting the legendary Derek Hale. Half of him thinks nobody can be as cool as Scott makes them out to be, and the other half is terrified that Derek will be exactly as cool as Scott makes him out to be.

When they pull up to the lake house, Stiles has to suppress a groan. His ass, his face, _and_ this house? Are you kidding? Pour some more salt in his wounds, please. Or however the expression goes. Stiles isn’t sure.

The house looks old and majestic, but like it probably was recently renovated. It’s wooden, but modern. There are big floor to ceiling windows that definitely weren’t originally there, reflecting the moonlight. It looks like it’s three stories of awesome.

To the right of the house is a path, and one can just make out the lake glinting through the trees. The house is all lit up, and Stiles can see and hear people gyrating to loud, bass heavy music.

“Wow,” Scott says, practically drooling.

“Damn, Scott, you didn’t say Derek was hot _and_ rich,” Lydia comments, stepping out of the car. Stiles glares at her and she sniggers, whispering something to Isaac.

Stiles hates his friends.

They walk towards the house and there’s a moment of awkwardness where they don’t know if they should ring the doorbell or just walk in. Lydia sighs and rolls her eyes and walks forward, opening the unlocked the door.

The party is in full swing inside. The people are definitely older than them, but not enough that it feels weird. Everyone is dancing and talking and laughing and drinking and it looks like every stereotypical party scene ever.

Stiles is wondering if he should go find some alcohol, when _he_ rounds the corner.

First of all, the pictures did not do Derek justice. He’s so much taller than Stiles imagined, which doesn’t make sense as he plays _college basketball_ and Stiles should’ve _figured_. He also gives off this air of “I could be a criminal if I wanted to be” that the basketball shots had definitely not alluded to. Secondly, in none of the pictures Stiles had seen was Derek unshaven and wearing a leather jacket. Jesus, it’s fucking _August_. That shouldn’t be allowed. Looking like that should not be allowed. And also the jacket. Stiles hopes the pictures had also been wrong about the gloriousness of his ass, but knowing his luck, it probably looks even better in real life. If he would just turn around, maybe pick something up...

Stiles is so lost in his own head he doesn’t even notice he’s basically gaping at Derek, who’s giving him this unamused look and appears seconds away from dragging him out of his house by the ears.

“Derek!” Scott exclaims.

Right. Right. This is Hale, Derek Hale - best friend stealer.

Derek looks behind Stiles and when he sees Scott he looks back at Stiles with what seems like recognition and understanding.

“Scott,” Derek says, and is that a smile? Wow. Didn’t seem possible.

“Good to see you, man,” Scott says, going in for the bro hug. Derek pats him on the back, before looking back at Stiles.

“This is Stiles,” Scott says, gesturing to him.

“I figured,” Derek says, looking between them. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

“Yeah, me too,” Stiles says, awkwardly clearing his throat.

“And this is my girlfriend Allison, and this is Lydia and Isaac,” Scott finishes, looking at Derek for his approval on his friends.

“Nice to meet you,” Derek says politely (or at least what passes for polite when you’re dealing with someone as imposing as Derek), before looking back at Stiles. _Why does he keep looking at me_ , Stiles thinks worriedly. _Is he trying to see if I’m a threat so he can move in on my best friend and steal my best friend title?_ Stiles tries to put on his most manly and intimidating expression, but he probably just looks constipated.

“Well, help yourself to drinks in the kitchen,” Derek says after the silence has gone on for too long. “Upstairs is off limits and if you’re hell-bent on swimming in the lake, please do so in groups and at least semi-clothed.”

Stiles thinks the last part is kind of funny, but before he can even make a joke about his goods, Derek is gone.

“Wow, he’s hot,” Lydia mutters. Again, Stiles glares at her. This time Lydia just laughs.

“Isn’t he so cool?” Scott says excitedly to the group.

“The coolest,” Allison agrees, wrapping her arms around Scott.

Stiles feels like he’s going to vomit, a combination from his encounter with the Derek Hale and from looking at their affection.

“I’m going to vomit,” he tells them.

“Well, since you’re DD, that’s probably not gonna happen,” Isaac says with a smirk.

“Fuck,” Stiles mutters. He forgot he wasn’t even gonna be able to get through this painful ordeal with alcohol.

Stiles really hates his friends.

__

****  
  


An hour or two later, Stiles is sweaty and agitated and entirely too sober for this whole affair. He’d never really thought of himself as a claustrophobe, but even he has a limit on the amount of people that can press against him in August weather without a drop of alcohol in his system. He politely excuses himself from the girl who’s been talking his ear off for the last twenty minutes to go find some air.

He notices a sliding glass door towards the back of the house, and figures it opens onto a porch. He thinks there might be people smoking outside, but is relieved to find it deserted; he guesses most people are down by the lake. Finally some peace and quiet. He leans against the banister and puts his head in his hands, sighing audibly.

“Party not doing it for you?”

Stiles whips around, and of-fucking-course. Derek is leaning against the wall of his house, giving Stiles a once over while a smirk plays at his lips.

“No, no, it’s great,” Stiles says quickly, hating himself for feeling bad about not enjoying stupid Derek’s stupid party. “It’s just, you  know, loud and crowded and I’m sober, so,” he finishes lamely.

“Right,” Derek says.

There’s an awkward silence for a moment before Stiles feels forced to fill it.

“So, Stanford, huh?” he says, leaning against the banister and attempting to seem cool and suave.

“I go to school there,” Derek shrugs.

“And you play basketball?”

“Yeah,” Derek shrugs again. “It gave me a free-ride, so why not right? I’m good at it.”

“Yeah, I know, Sweet 16 and everything right?”

Derek raises a questioning eyebrow at him.

 

“No,” Stiles laughs, picking up on his facial expression. “I’m not a sports person. Scott’s talked about you a lot since summer.” He thinks he says it casually, and doesn’t come off as jealous or petulant. Hopefully.

“Yeah?” Derek says, reading Stiles’ face. “Well, don’t worry,” he adds, and there’s something in his tone Stiles can’t identify. “He talked about you non-stop the whole summer.”

Stiles feels his chest swell.

“Really?” he says eagerly.

Derek rolls his eyes.

“Yes, really. It’s fucking annoying. I think I know every adventure you two have been on since you could walk,” he says in an annoyed tone, though there seems to be a small smile playing at his lips. “‘Hey Derek, did I tell you about the time Stiles and I went looking for a dead body in the woods?’” Derek mimics.

Stiles grins widely, and shrugs. “He’s my best friend.”

“Well, he’s a good guy,” Derek says back, which seems like a weird response, but whatever. He keeps giving Stiles this searching look. Stiles brushes it off.

Derek actually doesn’t seem all that bad. Maybe he’s not trying to steal Scott.

Stiles is about to say this outloud, when the glass door slides open again.

“Dereeeek,” a voice whines. The voice is soon followed by a pair of long tanned legs, and then an objectively pretty face framed by long dirty blonde hair. Stiles says objectively because this chick looks like a raging bitch, just from the set of her lips and the tilt of her eyebrows.

“I was looking for you,” she pouts, walking over and tucking herself into his side.

“Who’s this cutie?” she says, turning her attention to Stiles. Her look is almost predatory.

“This is Stiles,” Derek says, not explaining how he knows him. “Stiles, this is Kate.”

“Hi, I’m Kate,” she says unnecessarily ( _like seriously? he just said your name_ ), leaning forward to shake his hand. “Derek’s girlfriend.”

“Hi, nice to meet you,” Stiles says politely. He’s only know Derek officially for like an hour, but he can’t believe he’s dating this girl. She just seems - horrible. She actually seems horrible. It’s not that he can’t believe Derek is dating her, he can’t believe anyone would. She seems like she would chew your head off after sex. Like those female praying mantises he saw on the Discovery Channel that one time Scott convinced him pot brownies “weren’t that strong”.

“I’m gonna head upstairs,” she says to Derek, but definitely talking loud enough for Stiles to hear. “Why don’t you come keep me company?”

Kate doesn’t wait for an answer, sashaying out and glancing at Stiles over her back, almost like a challenge. Stiles feels the urge to call after her that Derek and him aren’t like that, but stops himself. Derek is attractive, yeah, but he’s also a best friend stealer (possibly former and wrongly accused best friend stealer but he’ll deal with that later) and clearly with Kate. Plus, Stiles is, like, four years younger than Derek. And look at him! Derek would never go for someone like Stiles. Kate must be pretty insecure if she views Stiles as competition.

When the door closes, Stiles stands there awkwardly, looking at anywhere besides Derek.

“It was nice to meet you, Stiles,” Derek says. “I hope I’ll see you around.”

He walks and leaves Stiles outside, feeling very, very confused.

__

Eventually, Stiles manages to get all four of his friends together and usher them out of the house.

“Can we go to McDonald’s?”

“No, Scott.”

“How about now?”

“Get in the car, Scott.”

“Can we go to McDonald’s now that I’m in the car?”

“Buckle your seatbelt.”

“I really want a mcflurry, Stiles.”

Stiles groans, even as he types McDonald’s into his GPS.

He really, _really_ hates his friends.

__

Stiles wakes up the next morning to the sound of Isaac puking in the toilet. Lovely.

He walks downstairs to find Scott still passed out on the couch.

“Just make yourself at home, guys,” he mutters, opening the fridge. He finds himself smiling, though, when he realizes that this _is_ their home. Isaac and Scott are just as much his brothers as any real siblings he’s ever met. Isaac even lives with him, and Scott might as well have been living there the last seventeen years. The thought is comforting.

Lost in his thoughts, he picks up the orange juice container, just to find it decidedly without orange juice.

“Who puts the container back in the fridge _if it’s there’s nothing left_?” he asks the empty kitchen.

The Sheriff had probably already left for work and drank the last of it.

Mumbling angrily, Stiles grabs his keys to go out and get some breakfast.

“Isaac!” he calls upstairs. All he gets back is a groan. “Do you want some Gatorade?”

Isaac groans again. “I’m going to take that as an affirmative.

The things he does for his friends.

__

Stiles can’t stop thinking about the night before as he drives.

Specifically his interaction with Derek.

Scott had said he came off as an asshole at first, but “once you got to know him" was super nice.

When Stiles first saw him, he got the asshole thing. The black, the stubble, the muscles. He seemed unapproachable. (And also distractingly good looking. But that was neither here nor there.)

But out back on the porch, he seemed fine. _Nice_ , even. He seemed sharp, and observant. Like he was evaluating Stiles. Maybe a bit standoffish, but not an outright asshole.

That girlfriend of his on the other hand. Man, she seemed like a piece of work.

Stiles can’t pinpoint exactly what’s bothering him about the whole thing, but he knows something is definitely bothering him.

But then again, Stiles is the most paranoid person he knows.

__

He comes home to find Scott still on the couch, but this time with his head in a trash can.

 **  
**Has he mentioned he really, really hates his friends?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so we finally meet derek!!! also i had to add in another trope?? stiles works in a coffee shop now and i’m not even sorry about it. also i know nothing about how guardianship works but i’m almost positive that in the US once you’re 18 you don’t need a guardian even if you’re in highschool so i went with that in the whole isaac scenario.
> 
> im a busy bee but sometimes i write a lot, sometimes not as much, so there isn’t a set in stone updating schedule but i wont let it sit for weeks on end, don’t worry. let me know what you think in the comments or on tumblr! thanks again to dcrekhales (http://kitsunes.co.vu/) for all her help with this
> 
> this chapter isn’t excellent i know i’m sorry but its like still exposition? this is probably going to be over 30k im just writing it in 2/3k installments for my sanity so bear with me lovelies

**Author's Note:**

> this will be continuing and Derek will be an actual character. 
> 
> you can come chat with me about what you think over at my tumblr, stilesangelofthelord
> 
> thanks for reading!


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